


Citrus

by XXIPilots



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety, Cancer, Crying, Feelings, Grief, I don’t even know, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Oneshot, Oranges, Sad, See what I did there, Thinking too much, Tyler needs a hug, Tyler’s alone, Tysh, angst angst angst, ill go home, joshler - Freeform, my poor boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 02:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17235287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XXIPilots/pseuds/XXIPilots
Summary: Tyler liked oranges, they were happy. Tyler was not happy.





	Citrus

**Author's Note:**

> Henlo there. This is the second writing piece I’ve posted on here and I still have no idea what I’m doing. Let me know if you think this is decent or horribly written because feed back would mean a lot to me. Also, any comments or kudos are appreciated because my self esteem lives of validation. Thanks for reading frens.  
> *Note: I updated with an edited version.

Tyler liked oranges. They had always seemed somewhat calm to him, if that made any sense. He admired that orange could be perceived as a feeling, as it was a warm color and it was often associated with happiness. He thought oranges were special, a fruit and a color, a feeling and a taste.   
He hummed to himself, it was an obscure tune, as he thought about them. It was one that his mother used to quietly serenade him with when he was small, to calm him down and ease him into the lull of sleep. He hummed the short little melody as his fingers tightly grasped his shins, hugging his knees toward his chest. His head was head tilted down, and he rocked himself back and forth slowly in an effort to calm the raging sea of emotions inside of his feeble mind. He tried to focus on orange, tried to remember laughing naively as he popped a freshly cut citrus filled slice into his mouth, tried to hold on to the memory. But he couldn’t. 

The smell of freshly peeled orange faded, and he was left alone, in the dark corner of his room; desperately trying to hold the water that was threatening to overflow inside and pretend he was okay. The issue was, he wasn’t okay. He probably wouldn’t be okay for a very long time, and that was something he could feel settle in his bones, it seeped through his skin and stained the deepest parts of him. A feeling of grief, and a feeling of despair.  
Orange was happy, orange reminded him of a smile. Not just any smile though, the most brilliant smile he could think of. A yellow-orange expression of joy that has now faded away. A smile that will only be remembered by him. The pictures that had freezed the beaming grin forever in time would never do it justice. Now, to be clear, he wasn’t a stranger to losing people. He lost his mother, when he was young. He continues to say young because he doesn’t remember when it was, or anything about it really, only the things people had told him. “She died for you,” “She loved you ,” “She dedicated her life to you.” But the statements of pity only blurred together into a fuzzy story of fake sympathy. This was different though, this time he hadn’t lost his mother, because that was a long time ago.

This time it was his best friend. The only one with a soul that fit his, the only person who could understand his mind and the only person who put up with his four am rants, whispering words of comfort when he cried. The boy whose smile was now lost, the best smile he had ever seen, gone. So here he was, now finally crying, unable to think of oranges, or do the infuriatingly dumb breathing exercises Dr. Park had given him, or conjure up any thoughts of comfort. Here he was, gasping for air he couldn’t access. Clawing at his scratchy and sore throat and cursing his lungs for not working correctly for him. Crying out his heart until his head hurt. Sobbing and heaving his chest in an attempt to alleviate the pain because there was so much pain.

After a while, Tyler realized that there was no alleviating it, no taking it away. It was there, buried heavily into his skeleton, and it wouldn’t leave. So eventually, his tears dried and he hiccuped slowly as he tried to regain his breath and composure. Once he was collected physically, he continued to stay in his position, knees to his chest laying on his side on the ground. All he could do was stare. Stare at his mismatched wall and think about Josh. Think about his curly highlighter hair, his wide smile and his almond eyes. Think about them playing video games, talking at sleepovers up until they could see slices of light penetrate the curtains of his room, soft kisses and intertwined hands. He thought about Josh crying multicolored tears and how he never thought he could be more sad, seeing Josh cry. Josh laughing, joking and even Josh dying. Sterile hospital beds and tired eyes, weak attempts at a previous smile that was long, long lost. Yellow hair falling to the linoleum floor. Lips drying and splitting, turned heads and silent tears. Frail hands lacking the warmth of summer that usually coursed through their veins. Tyler wished he didn’t lose everyone.

He wished he could have his mom, have his friend, have a happy life. He wished he could see Josh again, more than anything. One last time to eat stupid oranges, to laugh, to hug, and to live. Because Tyler wasn’t alive anymore, at least, not really. In reality, he was just as dead as Josh was. His outer husk barely functioned, responses continuously mechanical. Mind overworked but silently cold at the same time. Tyler liked oranges, they were happy. Tyler was not happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Oof this might suck.


End file.
